Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 31: Chapter 31
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 31: Chapter 31. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
"What kind of pathetic excuse is that? Get upstairs and change—now!" Julian thundered.
He gave her a brutal shove; Elena stumbled backward and fell to the floor.
The more fragile she appeared, the hotter Julian's temper burned.
She had once been the Bennett family's cherished little jewel; how could she have sunk so low that she now wore a dress so threadbare it was practically in rags?
He loathed the timid shell she had become. Not knowing what would bring the old Elena Bennett back, Julian only grew more irritable by the day.
Before Elena could push herself off the floor, Julian clamped onto her wrist and dragged her toward the foyer.
Staggering the whole way, she was pulled up the stairs to the second floor, then hurled into a bedroom with brutal force.
Julian barked, "Elena Bennett, you've got ten minutes—change your clothes and get downstairs immediately!"
With that, he slammed the door shut so hard the frame rattled.
Elena's shoulders trembled; she turned slowly, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
Lifting her hands, she unfastened each button one by one, exposing a body criss-crossed with bruises and scars.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.
Elena thought, 'Since they insist on making me change, then I'll change.'
Downstairs terrace.
After Elena had been led away, the cluster of wealthy heiresses began to drift off in different directions.
They had barely taken two steps when Victor Whitmore's deep voice rolled over them, "Stop."
One of the heiresses turned, puzzled. "Mr. Whitmore, were you talking to us?"
Victor lit a cigarette, took a hard drag, and asked, "Did you find anything?"
The women exchanged uneasy glances. "M-maybe she hid the item somewhere else."
Victor's mouth curved in a mirthless smile, his eyes dark as ink. "Which means you found nothing."
Annabelle pressed her lips together; clearly Victor intended to punish them on Elena's behalf.
She murmured, "Victor, there are still guests inside. Let's go back first."
He cut her a look. "Your sister was falsely accused and you're just letting it slide?"
Her heart lurched. "I... of course not. I only meant now isn't the right moment."
"When will the right moment be?" he asked, mild as ever.
Annabelle swallowed nervously. "After the banquet ends, naturally."
"And what exactly do you plan to do then?" Victor pursued.
Annabelle opened her mouth, panic pounding in her chest, yet no answer came.
Victor stubbed out his cigarette and glared at the heiresses. "Leave my engagement banquet—now."
The heiresses stared at him in disbelief. "President Whitmore, you—"
He narrowed his eyes. "Two minutes, unless you prefer to be thrown out."
Fuming, the women stormed out of the clubhouse.
A wave of unease surged through Annabelle. She still clung to Victor's arm like a helpless dove, and he still smiled down at her indulgently—yet she could no longer read what lay behind that smile.
Fear tightened her throat. What if Victor didn't love her at all? What if his heart was still with that wretch Elena?
Just then a ripple of shocked whispers swept through the crowd.
"My God! Is that the Bennett family's eldest daughter—Elena Bennett?"
Everyone turned toward the staircase and saw Elena, dressed in a simple white gown, descending step by step.
The well-cut dress made her appear even thinner, but more arresting than her frail frame were the jagged scars visible against the pale fabric.
"Elena..." Adaline gasped, pain lancing her heart.
Those hideous welts writhed across her skin like a nest of pale, sinister worms.
Julian shook his head in disbelief. "How did this happen..."
He gave her a brutal shove; Elena stumbled backward and fell to the floor.
The more fragile she appeared, the hotter Julian's temper burned.
She had once been the Bennett family's cherished little jewel; how could she have sunk so low that she now wore a dress so threadbare it was practically in rags?
He loathed the timid shell she had become. Not knowing what would bring the old Elena Bennett back, Julian only grew more irritable by the day.
Before Elena could push herself off the floor, Julian clamped onto her wrist and dragged her toward the foyer.
Staggering the whole way, she was pulled up the stairs to the second floor, then hurled into a bedroom with brutal force.
Julian barked, "Elena Bennett, you've got ten minutes—change your clothes and get downstairs immediately!"
With that, he slammed the door shut so hard the frame rattled.
Elena's shoulders trembled; she turned slowly, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
Lifting her hands, she unfastened each button one by one, exposing a body criss-crossed with bruises and scars.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.
Elena thought, 'Since they insist on making me change, then I'll change.'
Downstairs terrace.
After Elena had been led away, the cluster of wealthy heiresses began to drift off in different directions.
They had barely taken two steps when Victor Whitmore's deep voice rolled over them, "Stop."
One of the heiresses turned, puzzled. "Mr. Whitmore, were you talking to us?"
Victor lit a cigarette, took a hard drag, and asked, "Did you find anything?"
The women exchanged uneasy glances. "M-maybe she hid the item somewhere else."
Victor's mouth curved in a mirthless smile, his eyes dark as ink. "Which means you found nothing."
Annabelle pressed her lips together; clearly Victor intended to punish them on Elena's behalf.
She murmured, "Victor, there are still guests inside. Let's go back first."
He cut her a look. "Your sister was falsely accused and you're just letting it slide?"
Her heart lurched. "I... of course not. I only meant now isn't the right moment."
"When will the right moment be?" he asked, mild as ever.
Annabelle swallowed nervously. "After the banquet ends, naturally."
"And what exactly do you plan to do then?" Victor pursued.
Annabelle opened her mouth, panic pounding in her chest, yet no answer came.
Victor stubbed out his cigarette and glared at the heiresses. "Leave my engagement banquet—now."
The heiresses stared at him in disbelief. "President Whitmore, you—"
He narrowed his eyes. "Two minutes, unless you prefer to be thrown out."
Fuming, the women stormed out of the clubhouse.
A wave of unease surged through Annabelle. She still clung to Victor's arm like a helpless dove, and he still smiled down at her indulgently—yet she could no longer read what lay behind that smile.
Fear tightened her throat. What if Victor didn't love her at all? What if his heart was still with that wretch Elena?
Just then a ripple of shocked whispers swept through the crowd.
"My God! Is that the Bennett family's eldest daughter—Elena Bennett?"
Everyone turned toward the staircase and saw Elena, dressed in a simple white gown, descending step by step.
The well-cut dress made her appear even thinner, but more arresting than her frail frame were the jagged scars visible against the pale fabric.
"Elena..." Adaline gasped, pain lancing her heart.
Those hideous welts writhed across her skin like a nest of pale, sinister worms.
Julian shook his head in disbelief. "How did this happen..."
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 31. Continue reading Chapter 32 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.